Lady Mikasa and Sir Levi
by alienheartattack
Summary: High school student Mikasa and college student Levi meet at a Renaissance Faire. Spoiler alert: they both hate it. COMPLETE


"I swear, if you guys make me talk to another bawdy wench, I'm leaving," Levi says, trailing after Hanji and Erwin as they stride through a sea of people dressed as Renaissance-era courtiers.

"Levi, you're no fun," Hanji whines. "You didn't even get dressed up today."

Levi looks down at his crisp white shirt, his cravat perfectly cleaned and starched, his spotless black blazer. "I'm dressed up."

"You know what they mean," Erwin grumbles. "I sucked it up and wore the frilly pirate shirt even though it makes me look like a total dick. You can too."

"It's not a frilly pirate shirt," Hanji cuts in. "And I think you look handsome."

"Thanks," Erwin scoffs, clearly disagreeing with his friend's assessment.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest. "I told both of you I would come because I know Hanji wanted to go, but I am _not_ wearing some bullshit costume."

"It's surprisingly comfortable?" Erwin offers. Levi glares at him and shakes his head slowly.

"I'm here. I'm pretending to have fun. What more do you want?"

Hanji scowls at Levi. "You're not pretending to have fun. You're miserable. If I knew you'd be such a downer, I wouldn't have asked you to come." Their tone turns wistful and they sigh.

Levi frowns. Perhaps he has gone a bit too far; usually nothing can stop Hanji's boundless enthusiasm. "I'm sorry, Hanj. You know all this stuff is just too dorky for me."

"Too dorky," Erwin interrupts. "For _you_." He motions toward Levi's antiquated neckwear and raises one thick eyebrow.

Hanji chuckles at that remark, at least. "Just… could you try harder? Please?" they ask. Levi nods sadly, feeling the first burn of a blush across his cheeks. He's here for Hanji, he reminds himself, but it would be nice if he had someone to complain to. "Shit, look at the embroidery on that kid's doublet!" Hanji seems to forget their earlier disappointment as their eyes light up and they take off, nearly sprinting through the crowd before Erwin or Levi can stop them. Erwin and Levi see that they're heading toward a short blond teenager with what they both quietly admit is fairly intricate embroidery on his jacket. The kid is flanked by two friends, a dark-haired kid gnawing on a turkey leg, wearing the same costume as Hanji and Erwin, and an Asian girl in a burgundy dress with sleeves that trail nearly to the ground.

Erwin shrugs at Levi, then the two young men go running off to rein in their friend before they traumatize the poor kids.

xxxxxx

"Eren, that's your second turkey leg today. You're going to get sick," Mikasa grumbles.

"I'll be fine, Mikasa," Eren replies dismissively, taking a huge bite of meat and chewing messily, his lips and chin shiny with grease. Mikasa curls her lip a little at the sight.

_Just remember,_ she thinks, _we're doing this for Armin. Eren can get into it. Why can't you? _Then she remembers how many times today some douchebag in a leather jerkin has made some kind of unsolicited crack about her being a sullen wench, or a wench from the Orient, or a sullen wench from the Orient.

As Mikasa is trying to formulate a plan to leave — if she can convince Eren to eat a third turkey leg, he'll definitely throw up and they can go home — they are approached by a group of three people; she guesses they are college students. Two of them are dressed in the requisite male costume of a baggy white shirt tied at the throat, plain brown trousers, and knee-high leather boots decorated with studs and buckles. They are followed by a much shorter guy who is wearing regular dress clothes: a white shirt, black pants, a black blazer, and what looks to be a cravat, but what Mikasa really notices is that he is the only person she's seen today who looks more miserable than she does.

One of the group, a tall androgynous person with dark brown hair tied up in a messy ponytail and thick glasses atop their sharp nose, walks up to Armin. When the stranger opens their mouth, Mikasa is surprised to hear what seems to be a high-pitched, somewhat feminine voice. "I love your costume, is that Flemish?" the stranger gushes. "So many people here seem to go Elizabethan for their garb, so it's great to see something from one of the more underrepresented countries."

"Thanks," Armin says, with a sheepish smile. "It is Flemish, and that's exactly why I chose this costume. I mean, the Renaissance didn't just happen in England."

"I know, right?" the stranger agrees. "I'm Hanji, by the way," they say, sticking out their hand and shaking Armin's vigorously. "These are my friends Erwin and Levi. Erwin's the tall guy with the eyebrows, Levi's the guy who looks like he wishes he was dead." The two young men nod. "Would you mind if we went to check out some of the sights together? I have at least—" they count on their fingers, their mouth moving silently— "thirty-seven questions to ask about how you made your costume."

"Yeah, cool!" Armin says, walking off with Hanji, who motions for the rest of their friends to follow. "I'm Armin, this is Eren and Mikasa," he adds as an afterthought, already engrossed in a conversation about historical fashion.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," Levi says to Mikasa, falling into step beside her.

"Yeah, I just love being called a wench," she mutters in response. He says nothing. "So, um, what do you think of the Renaissance Faire?" Mikasa asks lamely, hoping that small talk will be less awkward than silence.

He thinks for a moment. "I think it sucketh royally."

Mikasa chuckles and nods in agreement as they walk quietly behind Hanji and Armin, who are both chattering at lightning speed, their words overlapping. They keep that breakneck pace until Hanji is distracted by a knife seller's booth and they shriek, "Erwin! Levi! Check out these sweet knives!"

"You like them?" the knife seller asks. "I'm actually doing a demonstration over there in a few minutes if you guys would like to check it out." He gestures to a spot across from the row of booths where several rows of bleachers and an archery target have been set up. "There'll be a knife throwing contest."

"So we're all doing that, right?" Hanji asks, turning to their companions. To their great pleasure, they receive five vigorous nods in reply.

After checking out the knives for sale, the group walks over to the demonstration area and claims a row of the bleachers for themselves. Mikasa suddenly feels very uncomfortable with Levi sitting next to her, even though he spends the time before the show scanning the crowd, acting as though she doesn't exist. His leg brushes against hers as he adjusts himself in his seat and she has to stop herself from leaping away from him, onto Eren.

The knife seller starts his demonstration by going over different types of knives, then finishes with the throwing knives. He flings two of them toward the target; they make a loud _shunk _as they sink deep into the foam.

"Now who would like to try these out? Whoever hits closest to the bullseye gets a free set of throwing knives," he says, retrieving the blades from the target.

"I want those knives!" Mikasa whispers loudly, then scrambles over Levi's knees toward the bleacher steps, waving her hands. The knife seller motions for her to come down.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Mikasa."

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a traveler from the Orient in our midst! The Lady Mikasa!"

"No, I live like an hour away…" she tries to say, but is drowned out by the sound of applause and whoops from the audience. Mikasa crosses her arms and looks out into the sea of people, noticing one in particular: Levi, who has a wicked smirk on his face. He seems to be enjoying her embarrassment. Mikasa grits her teeth as the knife seller hands her a flat blade and points out the target to her. She fiddles with the long sleeve of her dress, bunching it up and tucking it inside itself until there is a huge ring of fabric around her elbow.

Once she is satisfied her sleeve will stay put, she tests the heft of the knife in her hand, then frowns. "I want a heavier knife," she tells the seller, handing the piece back to him.

"The lady knows her knives," the knife seller remarks, giving her a new blade. His comment draws a few isolated claps from the audience and a "YEAH, MIKASA!" from Eren. Mikasa tests the point with one finger and, finding the sting against her flesh satisfactory, grips the handle in her fist. She narrows her eyes, concentrating on the dead center of the target, then draws her arm back and throws the knife, her mouth drawn in a straight line. There is a loud thunk as the metal sinks an inch into the foam target. The crowd erupts in cheers.

The knife seller inspects the target and announces, "Dead center!" The crowd applauds louder. "Do we have any challengers to the lady?" The audience falls silent. Mikasa looks down at the ground, hoping she has intimidated everyone satisfactorily so she can go back to her seat and gloat to Eren that she has participated in the day's events and that they should convince Armin to go home as soon as possible. "We have a challenger!"

Mikasa looks up to see Levi standing at his seat, handing his blazer to Erwin and rolling up his sleeves before he comes over to Mikasa. She stares at him with a look of dazed confusion. _What is he doing?_she thinks.

"Name?" the knife seller asks.

"Levi, and if you call me—"

"Sir Levi!" the seller booms, handing him a knife. Levi sighs in resignation.

"Close your mouth. You'll catch flies that way," he snipes as he passes Mikasa, taking his place before the target.

In the time it takes her to recognize and react to the barb, Levi has already whipped his knife toward the target in a smooth, deadly overhand throw, stepping forward and bending his knees deep, driving the knife's forward momentum with his hips. The knife sinks into the target millimeters to the left of Mikasa's.

The crowd roars and Levi turns to her, a smug smile on his face. She glares at him and sticks out one hand, her palm to the sky. "I'll take another knife," she says, eyes boring directly into Levi's as she makes her demand. The seller presses a blade into her hand and she lets it fly, grunting as she launches her arm forward. Her knife lands a few millimeters to the right of the one she threw before, creating an orderly row of three handles in the foam.

To Levi's great dismay, he even hears Erwin cheer when Mikasa's knife hits the target. (Hanji, of course, has been screaming their head off the entire time.)

"Are you sure you want to keep going? She's got you pretty good," the knife seller says, handing him another blade.

"I'll tell you when I'm done," Levi replies.

The seller folds his arm and holds up his remaining knives. "Look, I only have two more left after this."

"I'll be done after I throw one more knife, then." He hurls the weapon toward the target, landing perfectly next to Mikasa's second blade. At that, her scowl curls into a slight smile.

"Should we just go at the same time?" she asks.

"I'll take the left, you take the right." They both draw their right arms back at the same time, then release. The crowd leaps to its feet and cheers as their knives hit the target at the same time, completing the row of six knives. The seller just looks at them, mouth agape, and tells them they can just take the knives out of the target and keep them. Levi and Mikasa walk over and start collecting their prizes.

"Where did you learn to throw a knife like that? What are you, like twelve?" Levi asks, yanking on a blade that is stuck particularly deep.

"I'm fifteen, grandpa. And I, uh, I guess I have a lot of free time. What about you?"

"Same," he shrugs. "And I'm twenty-one, not eighty."

"Twenty-one? Ew. You might as well be eighty," she retorts, sticking out her tongue.

Levi scoffs. "Kids these days." They finish pulling the blades from the foam block and go back to their friends, who are waiting for them in the bleachers while the crowd disperses.

"That was awesome!" Hanji cries. "How did you learn to do that, Mikasa?"

"Practice," she answers. "I've spent a lot of time chucking knives at a tree. The one in our backyard has a huge chunk without any bark."

"Is that why my dad's been looking for his good paring knife?" Eren cuts in.

Thankfully, Mikasa doesn't have to think of an answer, as she is cut off by Armin's cell phone ringing. It is his grandfather, who says he will be there in ten minutes. Armin's voice lowers in dismay as he informs his friends, both old and new, that they will be leaving soon.

Erwin looks at his watch. "We should probably head out too. It'll take a while to get back to campus."

Levi and Mikasa look at each other then, both relieved to find that the other's face is downcast with dismay. They walk to the parking lot in near-silence, a pall cast over the day.

"I… I had a lot of fun. Will you be back next year?" she asks him as they arrive at their destination.

"I'll think about it, if I can get into the whole Renaissance thing." He sticks out his hand, offering to shake, so Mikasa takes it. Instead, he leans down and bows before her, pressing his forehead to the back of her hand. "You were a worthy competitor. Farewell, Lady Mikasa," he says, giving her a sly grin that lasts a fraction of a second.

Before she can squeak out, "Bye," he is already gone.

"How was the fair, kids?" Armin's grandfather asks as they pile into his minivan.

"Awesome!" Armin chirps. "I already have so many ideas for next year's costume."

"Next year?" Eren asks Mikasa weakly. "This is going to be a thing now?"

"It's for Armin," she replies brusquely, then turns away from Eren before he can see her grinning. She looks out the window, thinking of Levi's soft skin against her hand, daydreaming of him even after Eren throws up on the ride home.

xxxxxx

On the bus ride back to their college, Hanji is already planning next year's costume. Their current favorite idea is that they dress as Saracen soldiers, or maybe Janissaries. Or Knights Templar. Hanji is chattering so animatedly that they do not notice Levi and Erwin's complete lack of input.

"Hey Erwin," Levi says quietly. "Do you think I'd look good in one of those frilly pirate shirts? You know, for next year."

Erwin shoots him a knowing smile and says, "I think you'd look like a complete asshole. For you, that's pretty good."

"Fuck off," Levi grumbles as Erwin snickers to himself. He falls silent, listening to Hanji still going on about chainmail and replica halberds in the background, and thinks maybe he should dress up like a ranger instead.


End file.
